


but it's alright, and i'm okay

by advantagetexas



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Shitty and Jack get mentioned a couple times but they dont have lines so i didnt tag them, also i genuinely tried for accurate quebecois in this, but im a french learner, not whatever the fuck that language is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:31:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advantagetexas/pseuds/advantagetexas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are two things that are unacceptable in the Haus. 1) Making fun of Ransom's tendency of slipping into Quebecois when he's schwasted, and 2) harassing the resident pie making confectionery angel. After a LAX bro breaks rule two during a keger, Ransom and Holster are left to deal with the things they’ve said after the confrontation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but it's alright, and i'm okay

“Bro,” Ransom says, drunkenly stumbling into Holster’s side, practically checking him away from the girl he was talking to. “We got a problem.”

“What? What’dya mean?” Holster replies, worry starting to cloud his face. From the way Rans’s gaze keeps shifting to the kitchen, he can tell that something is really wrong.

“There’s a LAX bro messing with Bitty, and I need backup, man,” Rans slurs drunkenly. Man, they were really schwasted. But, Bitty needed them, so it was time to buck up and get going.

“I’ll be damned if I let some fucking lacrosse trust fund-looking motherfucker harass our precious angel!” Holster declares, clearing people out of the way on his way to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was one of the lacrosse bros, his popped polo collar visible from the other side of the room, with a sneer plastered across his face.

“Osti d'épais de marde!” Rans shouts, drawing the guy’s attention long enough for Bitty to slip past him, and into Holster’s arms, as he put himself between Bitty and the other guy.

“You okay, Bits?” he asks, as Ransom argues with the dude angrily, speaking Quebecois while the lacrosse bro yells back in English.

“Fine. That guy just isn’t very nice,” he whispers in response, sniffling slightly, and still very obviously upset.

“Alright, if you say so. Might want to lay low for a bit while Rans and I handle this,” Holster suggests.

“Thank you so much,” Bitty breathes, backing out of the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd of the party.

Holster refocuses just in time to see the Lacrosse bro put his hands on Ransom, pushing him physically away, leaving him stumbling for purchase on the tile floor.

Then Holster blacks out. He thinks he might hear Rans talking in the background. “Mon tabarnak j'vais te décalisser la yeule, calice, you son of a bitch.” At some point, he realizes that he’s crossed the kitchen. He sees the LAX bro go down, holding his face, and then suddenly there’s a strong grip on his arm, pulling him away. He thinks he vaguely remembers Jack and Shitty escorting the dude out of the haus. The next thing he knows is being sat down on the edge of the sink in the the first floor bathroom.

Rans is looking up at him, seemingly immensely concerned. Holster looks down and realizes that his knuckles are split and bleeding. Ransom is wiping the blood away with the hem of his shirt, and Holster pulls away, just slightly.

“Dis-moi pas de m’en aller,” he says, almost pleadingly, before realizing that he’s not speaking English. “Please don’t send me away,” he revises, “Just let me help you.”

“Bro, I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not fine, dude, you sliced your hand open on that guy’s teeth. I mean, it was a sweet uppercut, but still.” Holster lets Rans take his hand back, but instead of trying to fix it, he just holds it, rubbing his thumb against the back of it.

“Is…is Bitty okay?” Holster asks, which seems to snap him out of whatever reverie he’s caught in.

“He’s fine, I think. Jack and Shitty are making sure he’s okay.”

“They threw the other dude out, right?”

“Yeah, they did,” Ransom answers. “I wish you hadn’t punched him, though.”

“He deserved everything he got,” Holster says defensively. Usually him and Rans were always on the same page, what was different about this time?

“He did, but you got hurt for it. Avoir su, j’aurais…why’d you do it, though?” he asks, voice soft.

“He pushed you, Rans. He _hit_ you. I wasn’t gonna let him get away with that,” Holster admits, putting his unbloodied hand on Ransom’s cheek for a brief moment before letting it drop to his side again. “Plus,” he adds hastily as an afterthought, “he messed with Bitty. That’s entirely unforgivable.” Rans cracks a smile at that, even going so far as to laugh a little.

“Leave our precious southern belle alone,” he adds, and soon both of them are snickering like children. When it eventually tapers off, Ransom sighs, moving aside to let Holster hop down off the sink’s edge.

“There’s bandaids upstairs, if you want some,” Rans offers, “Party’s almost over anyway.” Holster simply nods in response, the two of them leaving the bathroom and threading their way toward the attic. Their room itself is thankfully much quieter than the rest of the haus. Holster sits down on the bottom bunk while Rans searches through drawers, going through three of them before finding the correct one. They’re Hello Kitty bandaids, because of course they are, but the care that Ransom puts into sticking them on over the splits in his skin almost negates that embarrassment. He could still be a tough D-man with children’s bandaids on his hands, after all. When they’re done, both of them sitting on the bottom bunk, Rans makes a move to get up, and Holster stops him, putting a hand over his.

“Dude, I don’t wanna sleep alone tonight,” he says softly, just loud enough for Ransom to hear him. His eyes go wide for a second, before he just wordlessly nods. Holster moves back, drawing his feet up and kicking them under the covers. Rans does the same, seemingly hesitant for a second before curling into Holster’s side, one arm across his stomach.

“Je vous aime beaucoup, Adam,” he whispers, just as Holster starts to drift off. He hears the phrase repeatedly in his dreams that night, and remembers nothing except for it.

_X_

 _I love you a lot_. The google translate window stares back at him from his phone. He’s got it carefully balanced on Rans’s hip. He’d fumbled for a few minutes, trying to use the keyboard with only his left hand, as his right was currently numb and trapped. Somehow, sometime during the night, he’d ended up as the big spoon.

He leans back, to put his phone back on the bedside table, and Ransom stirs slightly, stretching out against him.

“Morning, Holtz,” he says, voice just the slightest bit raspy. Holster just makes a noise of affirmation, laying his arm back down over Ransom’s side, tapping his fingers against his stomach. Their legs were tangled together under the blankets, neither of them making a move to untangle themselves.

“You wanna see a movie later? Maybe get dinner?” Holster asks casually.

“You trying to wine and dine me, bro?” Rans asks with a laugh.

“Maybe? I mean, if that’s cool with you,” he responds, the laughter stopping suddenly. Rans goes quiet for a second, seemingly lost in thought, and Holster can feel his stomach flip.

“You sure about this?” he asks, as if he’s unsure that he’d heard correctly.

“What was it that you said last night? Jay…jay voos amy?” Holster tries to repeat, which only causes Ransom to start laughing again.

“You’re a huge nerd, bro,” he says after a minute.

“And you’re just now learning this?”

“Nah, I always knew that,” Rans clarifies. A half second later he says, “And if we’re going anywhere for a first date it totally has to be to Annie’s. Get that cliché “bromance to romance” coffee shop aesthetic.”

“I honestly cannot _believe_ that that was a sentence you just said out loud. I thought I was asking _you_ out, not Nursey.”

“You’d have to fight Dex for that one, I think,” Ransom quips.

“Yeah, no thanks. I like my teeth intact and not punched out of my jaw, thank you very much.” They both crack up laughing at that, still laying there together for a few more minutes before Holster makes a move to get up. Ransom stops him, lacing their fingers together. Holster sighs and moves back into place. After all, this wasn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> so, I am /horrible/ at answering comments, I really am. I just don’t know what to say most of the time, since my actual reaction to them isn’t so much words as it is a high pitched squeal and a huge smile. so like, to anyone that’s ever commented on anything ive written, thank you so much? It means the world to me, honestly.


End file.
